


hoping shit is okay

by alsahm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blue Lions Spoilers, Cats, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 03:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20632331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alsahm/pseuds/alsahm
Summary: "This is Ingrid's handwriting," says Felix."Huh? Oh, yeah. Not like I'm in your grade."Somehow it's a slight. Felix scowls. "She could've just dropped it off like always.""Could've," agrees Sylvain. "Here I am."





	hoping shit is okay

**Author's Note:**

> 🎶 ['cause all the kids are depressed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_So8lwTHAg) 🎵

Felix has his head squashed into a pillow, where's it's difficult to breathe and sleep and move but unfortunately not to think. Micaiah's company would be so kind right now; her soft pressure on his back, or cuddled into his thigh, just anything tangible to keep him sane. Calling for her would feel pathetic, though, and anyway he doesn't actually know if she's anywhere near him in this godforsaken house, so nothing to do about it but squeeze the pillow against his ears and yell and shout and scream.

Knock knock fucking knock. Felix lifts his head enough to utter "Go away," then drops back into the crook of his arm. Despite the failure of the ice cubes in his blanket to spur any illness last night, he's decided he's sick today and it's contagious.

Still, he expects a reprimand from his father. Felix skips enough periods that the school's stopped calling him about it, but the maid will have told his father upon his return from work, and Rodrigue always just wants to talk.

But what he hears instead is a surprise: Sylvain Gautier, so cool and confident as he turns the knob. "Hey, Felix—oh, it's open."

Felix groans as Sylvain's voice grows closer and clearer. "Why are you here."

"What?"

With another groan Felix rolls onto his side sufficiently enough to be heard, and also so that his one-eyed glare is visible. "I said. Why are you here."

"Ohhh. I brought homework," Sylvain says cheerfully, and drops a blue folder on the bed. Then with his other hand he deposits on Felix one struggling, silver-haired queen.

Micaiah chirps at the freedom and his warmth and snuggles close. Felix automatically shifts to scratch behind her ears, unintentionally making space for Sylvain to sit beside him and pet her too. Micaiah has always been more fond of Sylvain; she chooses his touch to lean into and, to sour Felix's mood further, purrs.

"Ugh. Get lost," he decides.

"Can't," says Sylvain, shrugging. "Dimi—Uh, Ingrid's getting me after track so you're stuck with me. Don't worry, I brought a friend." And he rummages through his messenger bag to show-off a yellowing paperback, which Micaiah rushes to sniff. After a thorough inspection she decides the plays of Saint Cichol are of no interest to her, and settles between them to clean her butt.

"You skipped," says Felix. "How surprising."

"You skipped," says Sylvain, and cracks the book open.

Felix turns his gaze to the cat, then to the wall as her bath continues. Albeit suddenly warm he lies, "I'm sick."

Sylvain doesn't argue, only crosses one leg over the other and turns the page. He's actually reading, too; what an enigma Sylvain is, to be recreationally absorbed in that kind of thing, then turn around and use the same easy lines on every pair of legs he sees. Felix doesn't understand either pastime, but then he's always been shit at reading, and has only had the one crush.

To feel less stupid he finds the blue folder. Another thing which Micaiah decides to inspect; Felix allows this, and once screened he opens to the familiar missed assignment tracker, stare lingering at the date. And then narrowing.

"This is Ingrid's handwriting," says Felix.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Not like I'm in your grade."

Somehow it's a slight. Felix scowls. "She could've just dropped it off like always."

"Could've," agrees Sylvain. "Here I am."

"What is your problem?"

"No problem," says Sylvain, and continues his reading. Felix has never wanted to punch Cichol in the dick so bad. 

"You're insufferable," he announces, then scoots out of bed because he might as well put on pants. In the bathroom he takes time splashing his face with cool water, gritting his teeth at the mirror. He's crusty from lackluster sleep. Needs a haircut, maybe, and time alone and away from this stupid town. 

For now a ponytail will do.

When he returns Sylvain is playboxing with his cat, Cichol forgotten for his character. Micaiah was Glenn's, once, named for the silver-haired priestess of the_ Radiant Duology_, which Glenn read with fervor when Dimitri's parents gifted it to him. Felix couldn't be bothered with the poetry, but he didn't much like her in the movie when they all saw it together, something which he never told Glenn or Ingrid but admitted to Sylvain and Dimitri. Dimitri shared his opinion; Felix felt weightless; and two months later Glenn went away with Dimitri and his family and Dimitri came back alone.

So Micaiah is his, now, and Glenn and Dimitri are not.

With claws out Micaiah gets the best of Sylvain.

"Damn, bested." Sylvain bows. "An honor, milady." 

"Ugh. Quit flirting with my cat."

Sylvain smirks. It's infuriating because Felix knows it's practiced, worse still because it's practiced well. He runs a hand through his hair, uniform sleeves folded, muscles taut, then leans the other arm into the mattress to angle himself toward Felix, eyes dark. It pulls Felix enough not to argue when he says, "Hey. Let's go for a walk."

It's the season that does it, not a date. Felix remembers being twelve and waving Glenn good-bye and wishing he could go along as the wind bit his face, but he was too young, their father said, to be parted with. Felix took it the wrong way and balled his fists and bit his lip but didn't cry about it and slept over that night and the next two at Sylvain's, and then he got over it and his father brought him home. There were more things to get over after: a new only-childhood with a ghost; a crush on the one who survived and screamed at night and lived with them for months; so much frustration and anger. He builds mile after mile on this bridge and still he can't cross it.

It's their old hiking trail, the one where Glenn and Ingrid first kissed and Sylvain wolfwhistled and Dimitri blushed. It wasn't planned so much as their feet take them there as Sylvain stretches his arms behind his head and talks and talks and talks about nothing. Felix should tell him to shut up but he doesn't; silence here might be worse. Sylvain's timbre keeps superfluous thoughts at bay, harmonizing with the wind and the flow of the brook. 

Until it fades, and Felix realizes he is so many feet ahead of him.

"Sylvain?"

He's stopped, staring thoughtfully into a tree. Felix shifts his weight to one leg to angle his vision and finds nothing of interest.

Then Sylvain is smirking at him, one eyebrow quirked. And right as Felix's instincts tell him to run, Sylvain barrels forward. 

"Sylvain!" 

Felix has always been faster but Sylvain has always had the longer legs; it's a source of endless frustration because Felix can train and train and train and Sylvain was just born luckier, more handsome and physically stronger and with arms that reach farther than they should. He yelps and shouts as he dodges each of Sylvain's attempts to tag him, and his chest heaves with delight and winter wind in his lungs as he weaves his way to their old base.

"Come on, Felix!" Sylvain shouts, in some vain hope that Felix will falter; Felix skids instead into the mud of the bank, one hand dipped into the cold water as he shouts, "Base!"

Sylvain doesn't stop, though. He throws off his jacket and tackles Felix into the water. 

There's wrestling and screaming and arms and legs and kicks and punches, but mostly there's laughter, coughing and howling from deep in their lungs. Shivering they crawl out to the bank and set to drying out their clothes, only when Sylvain's turned his back Felix trips him.

"Fair," says Sylvain, grinning, and washes his face in the brook. 

When they sit a minute later, Sylvain drapes his jacket on Felix's shoulders and says, "Can't have you getting sick."

"Shut up," decides Felix, but allows it. In return he flicks mud off Sylvain's cheek. "Was that your plan all along?"

"What? To get you wet?"

Felix elbows him.

"Seiros! No, it wasn't! I just wanted to get you outta the house before your dad got back. And then you were so fucking quiet while I talked about everything you hate I thought you could use a run." He pauses, looking again to the trees, as if he really did see something earlier and it escaped him. "Got too nostalgic for a bit, maybe." 

"Maybe," Felix agrees. He draws into his knees. Then he says, "I hate him."

"Who?" 

"Him. All of them." His brother and his father. Dimitri, Sylvain. He wishes suddenly that Micaiah were here to keep his hands busy and warm, absorbed enough in the care of her to feel everything less strongly, but then sometimes he hates her, too.

"Ah," says Sylvain, "shit's fucked." He's scooped a good stone for skipping and turns it endlessly in his hand, dirty from the stream and the mud. Then he says, "I'm thinking about running away."

It's as if Felix has both always known and would never have guessed. His chest squeezes tight. Something small and forgotten is trembling inside. He knows the answer but still prompts, "Why?"

On Sylvain conviction is both strange and strong. "Don't you ever feel like that? Like you could just get up and leave and never talk to anyone in this shitty town again?" He scowls, hauling the rock into the water with no technique, where it sinks with his hollow laughter. "Whatever. I'm kidding. Obviously I wouldn't do it."

Felix grits his teeth. "You're such a coward."

"Excuse me?"

It's his turn to lob a stone, which bounces once before meeting its end. Bad aim, bad shot, bad day and season. "You talk all this shit but never have the balls to commit."

"What the fuck? Maybe I'll do it, then." He pokes Felix in the shoulder, hard enough that Felix still feels it seconds later. "Maybe you'll never see me again."

"Do it," says Felix, rubbing at the spot. It's going to stain. "Let's see how long you last without us cleaning up after you all the time."

Unlike Felix's biting stares Sylvain's looks are so naturally warm that it's impossible to mistake his anger; when his features sharpen one rarely has to hear the words that follow, and in fact sometimes Sylvain doesn't even bother, only furrows his brow and is understood as he stalks away. As quick as it comes now, though, Sylvain's hard expression melts with his shoulders into today's rare sincerity. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah. You're right, I wouldn't be anywhere without you guys."

"Ugh, don't get sappy."

Sylvain slips an arm around Felix and squeezes tight against Felix's struggles. "My friends," he says, the other hand to his chest, "my dearest friends! Without Felix and Ingrid and Prince Dimitri all the girls in town would _despise _me, and I'd be bawling my eyes out into the only pussy I have left—"

"You're a pig! Let me go!"

"Your pig," says Sylvain, releasing him. Felix fumbles then stands, scowling at him before he turns to march home. "Wait! Don't you want to hear who it is?"

"Why the fuck would I want that."

"Because she's gorgeous," calls Sylvain. "Most beautiful silver hair. Gold eyes, cutest little mouth—"

"Indech, I'm going back to my room."

"Tell Micaiah I'll wait for her!"

"Fuck off!"

**Author's Note:**

> <3 thank you for reading!  
please let me know what you think in a comment below or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/lumenize/status/1172701872496500737)!


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